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CHORUS
I invoke thee, Acharnian Muse, fierce and fell as the devouring fire;
sudden as the spark that bursts from the crackling oaken coal when
roused by the quickening fan to fry little fishes, while others knead
the dough or whip the sharp Thasian pickle with rapid hand, so break
forth, my Muse, and inspire thy tribesmen with rough, vigorous,
stirring strains.